Dark Blue
by Arcada A
Summary: AU/OC Brooklyn's just checked into a rehabillitation centre, the very same that Arista's working at for the summer. Sparks fly, quite literally, as the escapades begin. Octopussies ahoy!


Dark Blue  
Chapter One: Crash!

-x-

Silver-colored bangs fluttered upwards as Arista blew hair out of her face, sighing wearily as they fell back into place, obscuring her already blurred vision. She had been yawning almost non-stop for the past few minutes as she attempted to make the bed. The soft, comfortable bed with the big fluffy pillows and a nice, warm comforter.

She gave a soft smile as she patted the bedding before promptly sitting down and falling back onto the bed. A contented sigh escaped small lips that curved upwards into a genuine smile. Her eyes, a dark navy blue, closed slowly as the symptoms of an oncoming sleep dulled her senses, making her unaware of her surroundings.

A few minutes passed, she continued to lay on the bed, curled to her side in a profound slumber. Silver hair splayed on the pillow as she shifted into a more comfortable position. A felinic curve was set upon her small lips while somewhat flushed cheeks accentuated her pure, lily white Russian skin. Her slender body was hidden beneath her uniform which consisted of a white button-down shirt, her name tag, and baggy black pants rolled up slightly to avoid any accidents.

She slept soundly and comfortably in the large queen size bed, which looked as if it could fit another two people at the least. She failed to hear the audible twisting of the doorknob that sounded just before the door swung open allowing entrance for a tall, broad male. His pallid skin further emphasized his scorching blue eyes. A full set of lips and a sculpted chin showed off his handsome features while shaggy, red hair spilled over his forehead, signifying his need for a haircut. He was surprised to find the lights already on, but thought nothing of it as he carelessly flung a set of keys onto a table. He kicked off his shoes, then hit the light switch before making his way to the bed.

He sighed and flopped down, quite uncomfortably landing on something or rather… someone?

The red-head groaned angrily and sat upright, fumbling around for the light switch on the lamp located on a night table beside the bed. Having successfully illuminated the room, he rose an eyebrow in a curious manner as he spotted the female he was sitting on. Immediately he sprang back and bumped his head against the wall, moaning in agony at the looming headache he knew he'd get.

Why was there a girl in his bed?

He observed the girl in question with a piqued interest, absently running a shaky hand across the forming bump on his head. Upon closer inspection, he noticed the girl wore formal clothing, albeit too big for her lean body. Arista, he noted, was her name as his eyes read her name tag. Perhaps she had been cleaning and fell asleep.

Cute as she was, he gave an aggravated sigh before prodding a small shoulder. She mumbled something incoherently and shifted away from him, resuming her sleeping form. He scowled slightly before pushing her shoulder none-too-gently. Not succeeding in his attempts to wake her up, he gave up, annoyed at the fruitlessness of his actions.

Blinking hazily as sleep overwhelmed his senses, he kicked off his socks, watching them land haphazardly on the carpeted floor. The bed was warm and inviting as he surveyed the female on the large mattress and, not wanting to pass up an opportunity, he settled in beside her. She shifted towards him, snuggling in his warmth as a cat would bask in sunlight. He rose a brow questioningly as he regarded her unconscious form. He wasn't one to take advantage of a girl while she was unconscious so instead, he wrapped an arm around her waist, trying to warm her.

Seconds ticked away, turning into minutes as he lay awake in the giant bed, the petite girl laying beside him fast asleep. Her even breathing soothed Brooklyn's frayed and battered nerves, he didn't particularly want to be here, but who was he to pass up sleeping next to a pretty girl for a night. Perhaps he would be able to sleep for once without resorting to drugs. God knew he needed a good night's rest before he entered detox the following morning.

Resolutely, he started counting sheep in an effort to distract himself from the torment he would have to face. His breathing was slowly steadying to match that of the sleeping form lying beside him. Although he was relaxed and thoroughly tired, he just couldn't seem to fall asleep. Closing his eyes and wishing for the sleep he knew he wouldn't get didn't help his situation either.

He cursed under his breath as he lay awake and wishing for sleep, knowing full-well that without the use of his preferred remedy, he would lie wide awake until the morning's light.

-x-

That was precisely what had happened. Brooklyn had lain wide awake, watching the sun's rays slowly infiltrate the room, correction: his room, lighting up his surroundings and casting odd shadows as light reflected and bounced around the room with a lively energy. Arista had shifted a few times while she had slept, a serene expression set adorably on her features.

Though Brooklyn was content and relaxed in his present company, he figured he had to wake her at some point, lest she sleep the whole day away. Not that he would mind all that much, he mused, garnering a slight hope that she would stay the day with him.

Not wanting to wake her just yet, he gently removed his arm from under her head. As he propped his elbows up to support his weight and watch her, she roused slightly, nestling into Brooklyn's warm chest. A small smirk played with his lips, mirroring his amusement at her actions. He lifted his hand to play with her hair, sorting through the tangled silver mess one strand at a time.

As he separated the knots in her hair, she woke, watching him with uncertainty, her blue eyes wide. "Uhm… hi?"

She viewed the male with curiosity, she assumed he was roughly a year or so older than herself. Shaggy pelts of red hair fell into his grassy-coloured eyes, an absent look inside them as he continued to tame her hair. His straight nose had a faint blush upon it and along with his slightly rosy cheeks that stood out starkly against the rest of his fair skin. His mouth was set in a small, childish grin. He was wearing a loose, long-sleeved black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of navy jeans, faded from wear in several places. A few holes hear and there gave him the appearance of one who traveled quite a bit. He was rather attractive, she noted, regarding his striking features.

She cleared her throat to catch his attention.

"Hmmn?"

Her navy eyes locked with his, a piercing gaze that seemed to see right through him, causing his hand to fall back to her waist, her disheveled hair no longer of any importance.

"Why, hello. And how are you this grand evening?"

The flirty undertones made Arista question the sincerity of his words. "Who are you and why am I here?"

"I'm Brooklyn Adams, genuinely pleased to meet you. As to why you're here, how would I've a clue? You were asleep when I got here, I figured you were part of the rehabilitation package."

Arista stammered for a response, her cheeks flaming as a blush worked it's way up her neck, stopping to display itself evidently upon her cheeks.

"I'm not a prostitute!"

"I never said you were, darling."

"I'm not your darling, either!"

"Are you my friend then?"

"I… what? I don't even know you."

She sat up in annoyance, desperately wanting to create distance between herself and the strange male.

"You were sound asleep when I got here. I tried to wake you, but I couldn't be arsed to try any harder."

He cocked a brow as she rubbed her face with her the palms of her hands before catching him with her compelling gaze. "Are you… are you a patient here, then?"

"Yes." He gave a sardonic, almost painful smile, expecting the worst.

"Oh, well, I work here."

"I already knew that."

"Okay, so what now?"

"I could go for some coke." At her questioning look, he continued, "a-cola. I obviously wouldn't be here if I didn't _want _help."

"Right." Arista stretched and yawned, crawling out of the rather large bed in order to get Brooklyn some breakfast.

After having worked here for nearly two months already, she knew the first seventy-two hours were crucial to those who wanted to recover. She made her way to the quaint bathroom to splash some water on her face and wake up her dulled senses. Brooklyn watched her, exhaling a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

Usually when he told people he was an drug addict, they made an excuse to leave. Perhaps Arista would be different, but then again, maybe she was just doing her job. He hoped for the former, after all, he was _choosing _to get clean. No one had forced him to come here, although of the few people he knew, he figured none cared enough about him or his well-being to give a care for his health, or state of mind for that matter. All he'd ever wanted was a friend, he supposed, who actually cared about him and not just if he could hook them up with a fix.

Even though the effects of withdrawal were slowly making him nauseous, he was glad he had come here. He was long overdue to start over afresh, not that he hadn't tried. Oh he'd tried alright, but his previous attempts were too close to home. Trying to get clean in the same town that had sullied him in the fist place was just bad common-sense. He'd decided to try again one last time a few towns over, hoping against hope that he would prevail and kick the habit before it kicked him.

A whir of movement caught his attention as he recognized Arista standing before him, waving her hand inches in front of his eyes. He snapped his gaze to meet hers, wondering what she wanted.

"Didn't you want breakfast? Goddess knows I do, I'm starved."

Brooklyn gave a lop-sided grin, she was patting her stomach as if comforting it, causing his own stomach to growl in turn. "I could eat a horse right about now."

"I'll give you a tour later on, if you're up to it."

Although he seemed fine right now, she knew he would feel like shit come a few more hours. He would probably start throwing up, becoming nauseous and dizzy as time progressed. Slipping in and out of consciousness would be next, she calculated, if he didn't die from swallowing his own tongue. If he was lucky, he'd just pass out and sleep off the worst of it, not waking up until he was hungry or started hallucinating. It was a shame since he seemed really nice.

If he relapsed, well, it would just make it that much harder for him to quit if he decided to try and break his addiction again. The two walked in silence towards the kitchen, Arista leading the way a few feet ahead of Brooklyn, a spaced out expression adorning his prominent features.

His stomach growled, as did he, annoyance setting in at the lack of food. "Are we there yet?"

Arista slowed to a stop, glancing behind her. She'd guessed correctly, she mulled, viewing Brooklyn with a hand clenched over his gut, his ashen skin growing even more pallid. His stomach grumbled as he continued to walk towards her, the pain of withdrawal slowing his movements.

"Come on, we're almost there."

She guided him through a backdoor leading into the break-room, pulling out a chair for him as she started to fix two sandwiches. Thinking better of her decision, she decided he would do better to eat cold oatmeal as opposed to a sandwich, which would surely be solid enough to come back up as more symptoms kicked in.

Pouring the oatmeal into the bowl first, she added milk and stirred before placing it in front of Brooklyn. He made a sigh of dismay before shoveling a spoonful of cinnamon flavored oatmeal into his mouth. He swallowed thickly, not even bothering to chew.

The coolness of the milk soothed his scorched throat, traveling down and calming his innards. Hastily, he downed the rest of bowl, getting up only to help himself to another packet of oatmeal.

Arista chewed her sandwich slowly, almost methodically as she watched Brooklyn's actions with an inquisitive look. He'd cut the top of the milk carton so he could create enough space as to pour the oatmeal directly into it. He gently moved the box side to side in order to mix the milk with the oats, drinking straight from the carton as hunger plagued him. Upon finishing off the last of the milk, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Settling back into his seat, he waited impatiently for Arista to finish eating. Long fingers tapped rhythmically on the tabletop, displaying his restlessness. Arista noticed his growing edginess and speedily finished off the last of her meal, pouring a glass of water and drowning it down nearly a second later.

"All ready?"

"I was ready a long time ago."

"I'll bet you were," she muttered under her breath.

He rose a red brow. "What was that?"

"Nothing, where would you like to go? Or would you rather a tour?"

"Tour, I need a distraction."

His head was spinning from the pain in his gut. A rapid churning had erupted, and it seemed that it would only be quelled by emptying the contents of his stomach. He refused to throw up though, clenching his stomach as they traversed through a long hallway. The locked doors they passed were inhabited by recovering patients resting inside.

He knew that once he threw up, all the other symptoms would emerge, only causing him physical ailments and mental exhaustion. Not that he wasn't already exhausted enough as it were. He'd walked a third of the way over, not having enough money to take the train as he'd spent it on various paraphernalia. Add to that the cold chills and lack of sleep the past few years, he was certainly the worse for wear.

Coupled with depression, he was pretty much a charity case in need of serious care. He would never admit it though, not to himself or anyone else. For him to seek rehabilitation was one thing, but to throw himself at the mercy of others was just pathetic. He hoped he would never amount to so much of nothingness as to be desperate enough to do that.

Brooklyn followed Arista, who led him through the main lobby and down a flight of stairs. They were now in the basement of the facility where a swimming pool, and an exercise room were housed among other facilities. Arista walked somewhat slowly, hoping Brooklyn was stable enough in his current state to keep up. Glancing back, she was surprised that he was doubled over and leaning against the wall for support at least a dozen paces back.

Green eyes were clenched tightly in pain, an angry scowl set upon lips caught between white teeth. A droning buzz sounded in Brooklyn's ears causing his head to throb unceremoniously, he had long since stopped listening to the petite girl in front of him, choosing to alternate between clutching his churning stomach and his aching head.

Noticing that her companion was in pain, Arista turned and started towards Brooklyn but he turned and started to walk back the way he had come, his body trembling with every step he took. A small hand placed itself upon his chest and he realized Arista was standing in front of him, trying to restrict his movements. A ghost of a smile hovered on his lips before he grunted and seized up as his stomach clenched painfully.

Brooklyn's hands balled into fists as he calculated whether or not he should try and injure his hand for the fact that the pain from a broken finger would be more bearable than withdrawal. If he did that, his body would automatically focus on the pain from the new injury, minimizing the ¾

"Don't!"

Brooklyn looked upwards as his thoughts scrambled and dissolved upon meeting the dark blue eyes aimed with apprehension.

"Don't what?"

"Whatever you're thinking, don't do it."

Arista knew what was going to happen next. Brooklyn would either try and knock himself out, or injure himself. Both outcomes were derived from unnecessary violence.

The red-head rose a brow in curiosity, not saying a word, rather he nodded his head in understanding. Together, the two walked in silence towards the staircase, Arista supporting Brooklyn as much as she could.

Trudging up the stairs, they both decided to rest for Brooklyn's sake. He was sweating profusely, and his muscles ached painfully while his stomach continued to heave tumultuously. He was sitting on the very top of a flight of stairs, staring methodically at the bottom and before Arista could stop him, he pushed himself forwards down the stairs.


End file.
